Gentleman Prefers Blondes
by Rhianwen
Summary: In which Mr. Gentleman's maid learns more than she ever wanted to know about her employer's personal life. Total, total crackfic.


Gentleman Prefers Blondes

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Summary: In which Mr. Gentleman's maid learns more than she ever wanted to know about her employer. Total, total crackfic.

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Disclaimer: All of the characters appearing in this piece, with the exception of Lucy Hanby, are the creations and property of the folks who came up with Read or Die. Lucy Hanby is sort of an original character, whose name I borrowed from The Sims 2.

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It was approximately ten o' clock on a lazy Sunday morning when Mrs. Lucy Hanby, faithful nurse and maid to that well-known and much-beloved giant wrinkle in a robe creatively named Mr. Gentleman, got her first inkling that this would not be an ordinary day.

She had just begun to brew a fresh pot of coffee and scrub down the counters for that prissy idiot, Francis, to prepare the evening meal, when a sound from the doorway of the kitchen drew her attention effectively away from her hatred of chefs.

"Oh! Good morning!" the newcomer, a stunningly pretty young lady, voluptuous curves swathed in a dressing gown of pale purple silk, thick wavy golden hair brushing her hips as she moved, greeted cheerfully.

"H-hello," Lucy returned, staring bewilderedly. It was, after all, not everyday that bloody _super models_ wandered through her employer's kitchen. Nevertheless, there were manners to consider, and he would never forgive her if she simply let his guests - whoever they might be - go hungry, just because _certain people _who may or may not have been named Francis couldn't be arsed to show up before noon. "Would you like some breakfast, Miss? I've just started some coffee, if you'd like, or I could make some tea."

"Ooh, I'll have some coffee!" the blonde chirped, as though this offer was by far the highlight of her week. Hurrying over, she took Lucy's hand. "I'm Michelle, by the way."

"Er, it's nice to meet you. I'm Lucy."

"Wow, what a pretty name!" Michelle giggled. "And I love your hat - it's so cute!"

"Th-thank-you," Lucy smiled, touching her frilly headband self-consciously.

Noting her discomfort, Michelle blushed.

"I'm sorry - I'm always a little giggly after a night with Mr. Gentleman."

Had she chanced to be sipping from something at that moment, Lucy would undoubtedly have executed a classic spit-take. As it was, she simply choked and sputtered over air.

"Pardon me?" she squeaked.

Michelle giggled.

"Come on, Lucy, you didn't _really_ think that stallion lived like a monk, did you?"

Lucy stared, curiosity warring with the desire to bleach her brain of the mental images. Curiosity won out.

"H-he's still...functional, then?"

Michelle's giggles grew slightly hysterical, and her blush grew deeper, creeping down - Lucy averted her eyes delicately and turned slightly red herself - her ample cleavage.

"That's definitely a way to put it. He's _amazing_! I completely disregarded the proper sequence of plot points and broke the fourth wall about six times, just for a night in his bed!"

"Oh, my," Lucy murmured, one hand to her forehead as she tried to make sense of the universe. Finally, she looked up and gave a rather forced smile. "Well, I have to say, I'm very glad for him that he can still attract such...impressive company."

"Aw, thank-you!" Michelle beamed. She gave a sentimental sigh. "We met in a night club. He was wearing a purple leisure suit. I've never seen anyone head-bop with such grace and dignity."

"I see," Lucy said, focusing her attention entirely on the matter of pouring coffee in the hopes that it might stop conjuring up mental images of the Master in indelicate situations.

She carried the two mugs over to the kitchen table, and set one down in front of Michelle, who smiled her thanks, and the two girls drank in peaceful silence for several moments.

"Well, I think I'm going to go shower," Michelle announced, rising from the table.

"Oh, don't worry about the dishes," Lucy said, hastening over as the blonde reached for her coffee mug.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. Just give me a moment, and I'll fetch you some towels and soaps for your shower."

"Oh, that's all right," Michelle said, waving off Lucy's offer. "I know where everything is."

Before Lucy could protest, she was off. Refilling her cup and setting Michelle's in the sink, the bewildered maid gave a long sigh, trying to cope with this new bit of information.

Absolutely bizarre. At this point, she was willing to bet her reputation as a hopeless gossip and meddler that this day couldn't get any stranger.

"Oh! Good morning, Mrs. Hanby!"

At this voice, vaguely familiar, Lucy turned, and nearly dropped her coffee mug in shock at the sight of little Wendy, sweet and innocent and no more than twenty-one, creeping hesitantly into the kitchen in a fluffy pink bathrobe, clutching a big, soft feather pillow.

"Wendy! What on earth are you doing here?"

Wendy blushed.

"W-well, I sort of...em, stayed the night."

Lucy stared blankly for a long moment, and then recovered. Of course the poor little dear couldn't mean that the way it sounded! Surely one nubile young blonde in a night was enough for any man, particularly when the man in question had been wheelchair bound for the past fifty years!

"Oh! If I'd known you were over late to work on a project, I'd have prepared something for breakfast."

"We were at it rather late, yes," Wendy replied, hiding her deepening blush and muffling her giggles in the far-too-long sleeves of her bathrobe, "but I don't know if you can really call it a _project_."

"Wendy!" Lucy exclaimed, horrified. "What about Mr. Joker?"

Now it was Wendy's turn to stare blankly.

"Em...what _about_ Mr. Joker?"

"Wendy?" another voice, chillingly familiar, called from just outside the kitchen. "Did you call me?"

"I-I think I need to sit down," Lucy murmured faintly as that same Mr. Joker, wrapped in a paisley bathrobe, entered the kitchen, sent her an absent greeting, gave the little blonde in the middle of the kitchen a brief kiss on the forehead, and made a bee-line for the coffee.

Dropping its feather-filled cargo, a fuzzy pink shape shot across the kitchen and knelt at her side.

"Oh, Lucy, are you ill?" Wendy asked, forehead creased with concern.

_No, but a few more little surprises like this, and I might be, _Lucy thought. But, of course, one couldn't be snippy with the Master's various...er, love interests.

"No, I just got a little dizzy all of a sudden," she replied cheerfully instead.

Wendy flushed brightly pink.

"I understand. I think I might have passed out a few times last night. I don't think that's ever happened before."

"Harrumph," Joker commented pleasantly, pouting slightly. "I suppose those are the benefits of being seven-hundred years old - you've got centuries of experience, _and_ you can afford to be patient, because it takes an hour to become functional at all. "

"Mr. Joker!" Wendy chided. "That's not very nice. And anyway," she added with a mischievous little grin, "I have a few recollections of you _very_ much enjoying his experience and patience."

He coughed slightly, and Lucy stared, disbelieving. The man was _blushing_!

"Yes, well, I never claimed otherwise, did I?" After a brief pause, "Shall we go shower?"

Wendy nodded her agreement, and the pair moved to depart from the kitchen, only to jump in startled unison at Lucy's frantic yelp as something occurred to her.

Mr. Joker and little Wendy were both clearly aware that their exceedingly old lover was...em, seeing the other. But that Michelle girl who had passed through the kitchen earlier; what of her? Was _she_ aware that she wasn't the only one, or even the only one last night?

After all, it might be unlikely that the man could have two separate trysts in one night, with two different lovers - or, she amended as her eyes lit on the golden-haired pair in the doorway of the kitchen, groups of lovers - but really, was it any _more_ unlikely than the notion of her employer entertaining _anyone_ in that manner?

Given the the general strangeness of the day thus far, there was every chance that Mr. Joker and little Wendy were completely unaware of Michelle, and she of them. And _she_ certainly wasn't going to be the one to inform them otherwise - after all, getting one's employer murdered by an irate, jealous lover was generally frowned upon.

Meanwhile, Michelle was in the main bathroom right now, showering. Wouldn't that be a rude awakening, if one of these two were to walk in and burst the rosy bubble of being Mr. Gentleman's one and only!

Clearly, something had to be done.

"I'm afraid the main story bathroom is...em, out of order. If you'll give me a moment, I'll show one of you to the one in the east wing, and one of you to the main second floor one."

Joker stared blankly at the flustered maid.

"Why on earth would we need two bathrooms?"

"W-well, there are two of you, and...right," Lucy finished with a sigh as he shot her a disbelieving look. "Shall I fetch you some towels and soaps?"

"No, that's quite all right," Joker replied, before turning to the little female at his side. "Wendy, go fetch us some towels and soaps, will you?"

"Of course, sir," she chirped, scurrying off to do so.

"Look at that nice little bottom go," he sighed happily, eyes indeed fastened to approximately that area as he wandered from the kitchen after her.

By now strongly considering an addition of a splash of one of the Master's cheaper whiskies to her coffee - after all, had her Papa not always said that the good stuff was for celebration, and the not-so-good stuff for days like this? - Lucy sank back into her chair at the kitchen table and attempted to form an image in her mind of Ewan McGregor in Speedos.

Then, as Ewan began to grow wrinkled and hunched, his hair sprouting out by about two feet and growing abruptly white until it was Mr. Gentleman parading around her mind in a tiny black swimsuit, she gave a pained groan.

Perhaps bunnies, then.

Ah, that was much better. A group of adorable, fluffy little bunny rabbits hopping through a field of flowers. Hopping together into a giant pile, squirming oddly, a giant, squirming pile of fur intent upon increasing its numbers, and...

"ARGH!" she howled, flopping forward to the table top in despair.

"Hey, everything okay?"

"Oh, what now?" she whimpered, lifting her head with extreme reluctance.

The tall, broad-shouldered blond fellow watched her curiously.

"Er, yes, I'm fine," she finally replied with a polite smile. "Can I get you a cup of coffee, or some breakfast?"

"Coffee sounds great," he said fervently, dropping to one of the free chairs at the kitchen table and releasing a long, contented sigh. "We had a hell of a night. The old guy can really move it."

Yes, Lucy decided, this was _definitely_ a day for cheap whisky.

"Oh! Hi, Drake!"

And rapidly becoming even more so, she added internally, stomach dropping right through her feet and into the basement of the palatial home, at the sound of Miss Michelle's cheerful greeting.

"Hey," he returned with an absent wave, working at his coffee.

"The shower's free, if you want," Michelle informed him, sliding into the chair next to him and attempting to stealthily liberate and claim his coffee cup.

"Nah, I'm good," he said, deftly disentangling her hand from his treasured coffee.

"I guess you were up a little late last night," the blonde giggled, once again with an edge of giddy hysteria.

With a snort of slightly sheepish laughter, Drake shook his head.

"I always forget how much we _don't_ sleep when the old guy's around."

Lucy blinked. Well, perhaps these two came in a pair, the way Mr. Joker and little Wendy seemed to. Relaxing slightly as the two at the table sat in companionable silence rather than launching into a deathmatch on the kitchen floor, she moved to fetch Miss Michelle another cup of coffee. As she opened the cupboard to retrieve a fresh mug, something caught her eye over Drake's shoulder. She gave a frantic yelp that managed, through some miracle, to remain internal.

_Speaking of matched sets..._

"Would you two like to go drink in the study? It's far more comfortable."

"No thanks," Drake grunted. "Too many damn books in there. I don't know why, but I'm starting to get hives just thinking about them."

Michelle looked aghast at this anti-book sentiment.

"Drake, that's horrible!"

"I really think you'll be more comfortable in the study," Lucy insisted nervously as Joker and Wendy approached the kitchen door. "I can take all the books out first!"

Drake and Michelle exchanged bewildered looks at the youngish maid's inexplicable burning desire to relocate.

"Um, that's really sweet, Lucy," Michelle said hesitantly, "but I think we're okay here, and - oh, good morning, you two!"

"Hi, Michelle!" Wendy chirped happily, scurrying into the other girl's waiting hug. "Hi, Mr. Drake!"

"Hey," the burly American returned as he too was engulfed in a fuzzy pink hug, patting her back awkwardly.

"Good morning, Drake," Joker greeted as Wendy hopped obediently into Michelle's lap at her coaxing.

"Hey," Drake repeated, a little annoyed at all the constant interruptions from his quality time with his coffee.

_All right, at least they're all aware of one another,_ Lucy was meanwhile reflecting, relaxing sufficiently that the edge of the counter ceased to creak ominously beneath her iron gip. _I'd never stand for being one of four that way, but each to his own._

"Would anyone like any breakfast?" she asked, cringing only slightly at the possibility of receiving four completely different and equally complex orders.

However, before her employer's guests could generate cravings for fiddly and labour intensive breakfast dishes, the telltale sound of slightly creaking wheelchair gears in the hall drew their attention effectively away from any thought of morning repast.

"Now, where have all my pretty playmates run off to?" Mr. Gentleman called reproachfully. "I'm lonely, all by myself in that great, cavernous bed."

As one, the four leapt from the table and scurried into hallway, the girls chattering excitedly and the men attempting to restrain their grins and muttering something about _Round 12_. Lucy watched in considerably more than mild disgust, trying desperately not to imagine the events that would soon be occurring in the massive four-poster that _she_ would have to make afterwards, thank-you very much.

"All right, off to the liquor cabinet," she started to reflect aloud, when Wendy darted through the kitchen and out the side door.

Lucy stared, bewildered and horrified, as the little fuzzy-pink-clad female hurried into the nearby stable and moments later reappeared, leading a pretty warm beige mare across the yard. As little Wendy at her four-legged pal disappeared from view, and the telltale _clop-clop_ on the kitchen tile signaled their arrival, Lucy turned a very pointed Look upon the girl, a speech jumping already to her lips about how, if the Master wanted to involve _livestock_ in his sick little games, they could all damn well go out to the stable and do it there, because there was no earthly way that she was going to clean up the results of bestiality at _her_ wage.

In the process of slipping off a pair of heavy black boots clearly not made for her, Wendy presumably felt Lucy's gaze boring into her, and looked up, horrified.

"Oh, no, we've been so selfish!" she lamented sadly, leading the horse across the kitchen to give Lucy a one-armed hug. "We've been parading back and forth, and forth and back, in all manner of undress, completely indecent, and we never once asked if you'd like to join in!"

Lucy, who had been nodding, much vindicated by Wendy's teary almost-apology, choked at the last bit.

"_Join in_?" she repeated, floored. "Have I given the impression that I want to _join in_?"

"W-well, not exactly," Wendy replied with a tiny shrug, "but I think everyone needs to try at least one round of Naked Bed Polo before they dismiss the idea."

"Naked...Bed...Polo," Lucy repeated, doubly floored.

Wendy nodded cheerfully.

"Shall I run out for another horse? I'd been sharing with Mr. Joker until now, but he swears I broke some ribs when I almost fell off and held on tighter."

"No, no, that's quite all right," Lucy assured the little blonde quickly.

"Well, if you're sure," Wendy said, conscience much mollified by _offering_, at least.

"Quite sure," Lucy agreed, watching as Wendy and Bessie departed down the hallway.

And so it was that later on that afternoon, one Mrs. Lucy Hanby handed in her notice, declaring her intention of resigning from her position as one Mr. Gentleman's nurse, maid, and nursemaid, and seeking employment elsewhere in the interest of her mental and emotional health.

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End Notes: Geez, that got long for a story that was pretty much all in the title. Oh, well. It made me giggle.


End file.
